


Night Flowers

by sidsaid



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bonfire Night, F/M, Fluff, Reylo - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 14:26:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16662611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidsaid/pseuds/sidsaid
Summary: Sometimes a chance meeting underneath a sea of fireworks is all someone needs to make a connection. Though a badly-behaved dog also helps.





	Night Flowers

**Author's Note:**

> Named because fireworks are like flowers blooming in the night sky. 
> 
> I originally wrote this to be a Thanksgiving companion as a non-American, though by the time I started writing, it drifted further away from Thanksgiving and became its own story, I suppose. It didn't fit to my plan and I'll probably come back one day and rewrite. I’m not sure if anybody could possibly like this, but I didn’t want to throw it away.

When Ben finds himself waking up at 10AM on a Wednesday morning to the sound of people shouting in the street, he is beyond satisfied. As if he shares a brain with his dog, he feels slobber on his face before his eyes are open and he sighs as he gives Art’s grey fur a hardy rub down.

‘Surprised I’m still here, hey?’ he asks the dog, giving him several kisses back.

Art begins to jump, shaking the bed until Ben is sitting up and pulling himself from out from beneath the covers.

‘Okay, I get it. You’re hungry, calm down.’ He scratches his head, grimacing at the oil that coats his fingers and then looks at the state of his bedroom, clearly misused.

Ben yawns on his way to the kitchen, trying to tidy up as he goes, though finding it difficult when his Weimaraner is trying to knock him off his feet–a task that Ben is sure that Art will one day achieve considering his size and strength.

He starts filling a bowl of dog food and scratches Art behind his ears as he begins to eat.

‘What’s the plan today? You have me all to yourself.’ Ben asks.

Art glances at him, tilting his head, before resuming eating.

‘A walk then, and I should probably get on top of cleaning this place. You’ve made an absolute mess of my apartment.’

Ben watches the dog eat for a moment more before he begins sifting around the kitchen for his instant coffee and a bowl of Britain’s finest–Weetabix. He sits at his island, spooning the sludge into his mouth with dread, thinking about his last call with his mother, and how he has to think about his health.

He sighs, daydreaming of Fruit Loops and Coco Pops when he feels a nudge against his knee. Art has his leash between his teeth and is looking at Ben earnestly.

‘So you get to finish your breakfast but not me? Can’t I at least have a shower?’ He asks the dog, knowing he won’t get a satisfactory response.

Ben leaves his cereal half finished and has a jumper, jeans and his coat on a moment later. Feeling like literal garbage as they leave, Ben is at least thankful that a warm sausage roll from the local Greggs will be a more satisfying breakfast than the cold sludge of whole-grain wheat.

Art’s run himself in circles for at least a mile by the time they get back home, and he grants Ben the opportunity to shower and clean, the only interruption being a call from his mother.

It goes as it usually does. She asks when he is coming home, clearly suggesting that it would be nice to see him over Thanksgiving or Christmas. Ben has considered acquiescing to his mother’s wishes by making an appearance over his Christmas break, but at the same time, he wants to keep some distance between them. It’s enough that she calls everyday and berates his eating and living habits. Then there’s the talk of his seemingly forced loneliness and how she worries about him.

Ben sighs heavily into the receiver and his mother turns silent. He’s hurt her pride, he knows it, and he feels guilty, even as she makes a sigh of her own, seeming to give up for the day.

‘Fine Benjamin, though know that I am dissatisfied and if you’re not careful, when I die, I’ll be a ghost sent only to torment you for all my unfulfilled wishes.’

‘Do you always have to be so melodramatic, mother?’

She snorts. ‘As if you didn’t learn from the best.’

The dial tone rings out then, his mother having hung up on him as she usually does, and Ben goes to look through his empty cupboards and fridge for some semblance of a lunch. He almost reaches for the pizza delivery menu, but sighs, knowing that his mother is at least right about his poor diet.

It feels like no time has passed at all when the sun begins to set and Art, the greediest dog on the earth, demands a full bowl of food, at least one dog treat and then another walk. Ben groans aloud as he grabs for the leash and his coat again, hoping that if anything, the cloudless sky remains.

Brockwell park is a comfortable distance away. A short walk down from his flat on Herne Hill, past the station, across a few roads –where the traffic lights take an exceptionally long time to change– and then a choice of park gates to enter through.

Ben can’t pinpoint why he’d chosen here to live. It’s inundated with families, with their children’s cafes and community activity days. Then there are the overly enthusiastic neighbours who all seem to either have full-on farms going in their back gardens, or mini-breweries in their basements. Whenever Ben ventures out on a Sunday, he’ll find them happily selling their wares from mason jars or recycled bottles in the small market area in between the station and the park, hounding him with: ‘Benjamin, where is that canvas bag I gave you?’; ‘Here try this chutney, Ben’; ‘Come over for lunch Ben, we are having steak and kidney pie’; ‘Stop collecting plastic bags Benjamin, think of the whales.’

He likes that, he supposes. That people know his name, and don’t repeat it with derision on their tongues. He’d remembered chasing away most of his parents’ neighbours long before he’d left for college, when he’d still had a penchant for firecrackers and grunge.  

Though sometimes Ben considers that perhaps it hadn’t been just him. Maybe it’d been the arguing and the sounds of broken crockery whenever his father would get just a little too frustrated and he didn’t want to take it out on his mother or son. Sometimes Ben had wanted his father to hit him, imagining that perhaps his purpled or broken skin would make him seem like more of a Solo, would make him into a fighter, would make his dad look at him more.

It never happened, though, and Ben pictured himself burning the whole place down when his dad had died. To start over somewhere else, a different county, even a different state. But his mother wouldn’t go, and she clung to his dad’s flannels like they were more than just cloth, like he was a good husband with perfect manners–the kind of man that her parents had wanted her to marry.

And Ben was the disappointment who took his mother’s mourning as an opportunity to run away and stay locked indoors, with only a dog for company. A dog who sometimes seemed to look disappointed in him too, with a tilt of his head that said; ‘you’re a lonely bastard, aren’t you?’

He’s already by the bend at the base of the hill, ready to cross the first road when he notices all of the people. Ben’s brow furrows as he watches the crowds in the street, not used to seeing so many at this time of night. Art pulls him again and Ben’s hand tightens on the lead, trying to reign him in.

It is when they turn the corner past the station that he notes the crowds are steadily moving into the park. He scratches his head, wondering what is going on, but allows Art to continue in the direction of the main entrance, knowing that the park is big enough to hold whatever event they are having as well as for Art to run around for an hour.

The chattering grows louder as they get through, though Art seems nonplussed and is raring to get to his favourite part of the park–the jumping logs.

Despite being wary to continue on, Art continues to get the better of Ben and they continue on until Art is sniffing around his favourite oak tree and running around happily, still attached to the lead.

After scoping out his surroundings once more, Ben kneels down and unlatches the lead, giving Art one more scratch as he steps back. His dog looks expectantly up at him and Ben removes the ball from his pocket, squeezing it lightly before tossing it several metres away for Art to chase down.

Ben’s missed this. He can’t deny that when his mother calls Art his only friend, she is telling the truth. Four years in London and so far away from anything familiar has made Ben feel the most alone he has felt in his entire life. It’s his fault, really. Running away was supposed to be cathartic, but Ben merely swapped his family issues for work issues. Now he spends too much time at work, as if it’s the most important thing, as if it can replace companionship or family. And he is an idiot for talking himself into it.

Ben sighs, throws the ball again and watches Art run after it. It’s only as Art is running back to him that he hears the first whistle and then the boom of the explosion. His head turns quickly, snapping in the direction of the sound and he sees the night sky full of colour.

There is another shriek and a bang and Ben hears Art immediately start to whine and before he can do anything, the dog speeds off, running across the park, frightened by the fireworks overhead.

He immediately takes off after Art, trying to shout at him to heel, but to no effect and Ben thinks he’s almost ran the length of the park when he begins to see the crowds again and Art’s aiming right at them. The fireworks still blast above them, brightening the sky in hues of gold, red, green and blue and most eyes are on them, not paying attention to the breathless Ben or the shrieking Weimaraner.

Ben’s almost ready to collapse, the recesses of his mind inquiring why he has been slacking during his morning runs, when he sees from a few yards away Art barrel into a woman, knocking her down and taking himself down with her.

There’s a sharp yell as she falls, and Art is spinning, yelping more as Ben speeds up, frightened that his dog has finally gotten himself killed by knocking down a stranger who wants vengeance on his ridiculous dog.

‘Are you okay? I’m sorry, oh my god, I’m so sorry,’ Ben begins almost automatically, his voice barely audible above the fireworks and Art’s incessant noises. Those closest to the incident are distracted from the show all try to help the woman up, though she seems to look up and dissuade them, pulling herself up onto her knees, even as Ben’s hands float beside her.

She takes a breath and then she looks up at Ben and then looks at Art, who is spinning in circles. And Ben can’t stop staring. He knows he should do something, help her up onto her feet, say something more, hold Art down, but he’s frozen. His eyes rove across her face at a mile a minute, his mind trying to bridge what he is seeing and why it feels like his stomach is lodged in his throat and that his body is falling away from him. Like he is a firework rocketing into the sky to explode into a million pieces. He knows he’s being overzealous, dramatic even, just like his mother says, yet he hasn’t seen anyone so beautiful before, and he doesn’t understand how that’s possible.

Before Ben can say anything, still stuck in a vicious loop of _what is happening_ , her hand is on Art’s back and she’s steadying him. She stands, slotting the dog between her legs as she rubs his back and then she sits him down and removes her exceptionally large black scarf, wrapping it tightly around Art until he is just looking up at her expectantly.

‘How did you do that?’ Ben asks, realising he has been watching her without saying a word, without even taking a breath. His voice is much higher than usual, and he tries to clear his throat to hide it.

She smiles and takes the lead from Ben’s hand, latching it onto Art’s collar as she begins to lead him out of the park, most likely expecting Ben to follow.

And follow he does, a ridiculously gormless expression on his face as his feet drag after her. He imagines that she is cold now, having removed the expansive scarf that had covered her shoulders as well as her neck.

It’s only when they are through the park gate that she turns to Ben, holding the lead as if she doesn’t want to let go.

‘I’m sorry about Art, I hadn’t realised...the fireworks...if I had I wouldn’t have come out tonight.’ Ben blurts, trying to reach for the lead from her hands.

She smiles again, bright and warm and Ben all about stops breathing as he watches her lips move upward and her head shake. ‘Firstly, we should get your dog away from here. Do you live far?’ She asks.

‘Uh, about half a mile?’ he responds, glancing up at the road leading back to his home.

She frowns and shakes her head. ‘Come to mine, we’ll get him calmed down and away from the noise.’

Ben doesn’t have a chance to respond before she is half-jogging down the street, Art still wrapped in her scarf, half-skittish, but willing to be led away. They cross the road quickly and within two minutes, the young woman is unlocking the door between a kebab shop and a bakery and is leading Art up the stairs, Ben following close behind.

The bang of fireworks simpers to a whisper and Art seems to be more interested in his new surroundings and the barely-there smell of kebab wafting through the stairway.

She opens another door and then Ben is standing in the middle of an over-furnished apartment, Art pulling at the lead to explore, while the young woman kneels in front of him.

‘Are you okay?’ Ben asks warily, looking down at her awkwardly as his eyes scan the small space. There are photos everywhere, on every flat surface and covering every wall, as if being used to recall memory rather than as simple decoration.

She hums in reply and Ben takes that as a yes, watching as she tightens the scarf around Art again and smiles as she ruffles his ears. Art pants happily and Ben frowns heavily, the alarms of confusion sounding off in his head.

He hasn’t even been in his next-door neighbour’s house, yet here he is in this beautiful woman’s home, as if it’s completely normal.

‘Excuse me, sorry, I’m really confused. Why are we in your apartment?’ Ben finally asks, his hands tightening into fists.

She looks up at him, something seeming to become apparent in her eyes and she stands. ‘Sorry, sorry,’ she turns around and gestures to the sofa in the centre of the room. ‘Please sit, would you like some tea?’ she asks, moving towards the kitchen. ‘I get distracted when I see a pretty dog and forget all the in-between things,’ she says as she grabs for the kettle.

‘I’m fine, and I wouldn’t call Art pretty,’ his voice trails off and she laughs lightly, automatically pulling out two cups and putting a tea bag in each.

‘Sugar?’

Ben frowns again. ‘No, really, I’m fine.’

She moves to the fridge for milk and then she pauses, turning to look at him. Her eyes are wide and alive. She’s almost excited, Ben thinks. He’s not sure of what, but it’s magnetic and he feels lightheaded and he can’t decide whether he’s nervous or just feels completely sick and his adolescent anaemia has come back with a vengeance. He remembers the last time, in tenth grade when Jenna Scott had offered to suck his dick and he’d ended up vomiting on her head as soon as she’d licked his slit.

High school had been an exceptionally dark time for Ben and it took him three years before he’d even let a girl touch him again and a year after that before he’d actually lost his virginity. In some small way, Ben was thankful that his father hadn’t been around to even hear a whisper of how his anaemic son had vomited and fainted after all the blood rushed away from his brain and right to his penis. That week he’d been in Arizona doing some form of ‘business’ and by the time he’d come back, Ben’s doctor had patched up the gash across his brow, given him new medication and told him to eat more spinach. He isn’t quite sure why he’s thinking about his failure of a love life now.

‘I completely forgot I didn’t answer you. I’m Rey, I’m a veterinarian, and it was better to get your dog out of there before he ran off and hurt himself.’

He’s barely registered what she’s said, because his mind is latching onto him fainting again from an erection. Knowing he has no reason to be thinking about erections in a stranger’s flat, no matter how beautiful she is, he clears his throat and straightens.

The kettle pings and she smiles, adding water to the two cups before turning back to him. He’s still lost, standing in the centre of the small living area, feeling huge as his head almost brushes the singular hanging ceiling bulb. If he lifts his arms from his sides he knows that he can touch the sofa with one hand and the kitchen counter with the other.  

‘Now why were you out in the park with a dog on Bonfire Night?’ she asks. ‘Don’t tell me you are new to the country and weren’t aware?’

Ben swallows, his eyes meeting hers again and he sighs softly, half because he’s an idiot and half because her smile is like a freshly opened bottle of lemonade. He shakes his head, leaning down to rub Art behind his ears. ‘I completely forgot what day it was. I haven’t been keeping track lately.’

Rey nods in understanding, takes a spoon from her drawer and uses it to stir the tea, before she adds milk and stirs some more.

‘Are you really okay? Art knocked you completely off your feet.’

She grins and nods. ‘This isn’t my first time getting mown down by an animal, and I doubt it will be my last.’

‘Do they just gravitate towards you, or?’ Ben finds himself replying, surprised that he can joke in this stranger’s house, with his dog starting to chew on her rug. He pokes Art to make him stop and the dog moans.

The chuckle that sounds from her throat has Ben looking back at her again, but she is already facing away, removing the teabags from the cups and bringing the two of them towards Ben. She gestures to the sofa again and hands him the cup of unwanted tea as she sits herself down.

Art automatically stands, moving towards her and resting his head against her knee. Rey laughs again, scratching his head and leaning forward to meet his eyes.

‘You are a very beautiful dog.’

‘I’m Ben...I thought you should know that.’

She turns to Ben, who had just sat on the furthest edge of the sofa, the tea in his hands resting on his thigh.

‘And that’s Art,’ he adds, pointing to his dog, who seems to have changed allegiances incredibly quickly.

Rey rubs Art’s back with a wide smile. ‘How old is he?’ she asks, and her hand seems to ghost over his grey fur, as if she were giving him a check-up.

‘He’s four,’ Ben pauses, searching for something to say as if keeping this conversation going is the most important thing he has to do. ‘I got him when I moved here.’

She nods. ‘It looks like you take good care of him.’

‘He seems to like you more than me already,’ Ben counters, looking rather dejected. He absently sips at the cup of tea, happy that Rey had at least refrained from adding any sugar.

‘That’s not true Art, is it?’ she asks the dog, rubbing behind his ear.

Art seems to reply with a soft howl that has Ben chuckling into his tea, mostly because he’s hiding behind it. ‘He absolutely has no loyalties to me, clearly. I don’t feed, wash or cloth him or anything.’

Rey grins, turning her body to face Ben more easily, even with Art leaning against her knee. ‘You shouldn’t treat your dad so badly, Art.’

Like the traitor he is, Art stands again, climbs onto Rey’s lap, and begins licking her hands and her face.

‘I’m sorry we made you miss the show,’ Ben murmurs, drinking his too-hot tea awkwardly.

She shakes her head. ‘I know how things can get away from you sometimes.’ She pauses, holding Ben’s eyes for a moment before nodding resolutely, as if securing something within her mind. ‘I’ve always felt that it helps to take a moment, have a cup of tea and find a way to vent. I don’t know why I think it, but you seemed like you needed that.’

Hearing the words out loud from someone who isn’t his mother leaves Ben looking at her like she’s robbed him of something. A secret that he never wanted to disclose and there’s nothing he can do. She’s read him in the space of thirty minutes and Ben can only drink more of his tea and balance her words on his tongue.

Rey smiles wryly and looks to the ceiling for a moment before lifting her cup to her lips. ‘There’s something about you, Ben, and I can’t put my finger on it, but I see it in your eyes.’

‘See what?’

She spares him another glance and then shrugs her shoulders lightly. ‘Maybe myself? Though now you’re looking at me strangely, so I’m wondering if I haven’t completely frightened you.’

Despite her words, she laughs softly, and Ben enjoys listening to it. It’s almost a hiccough of a giggle and he finds himself smiling widely, accepting that the woman beside him is absolutely disarming.

‘I wasn’t looking at you strangely.’

She narrows her eyes at him. ‘You looked at me like, “why am I in this woman’s house, she is clearly a psychopath”.’

‘I can’t really judge you, considering you were nice enough to make me a cup of tea, and it doesn’t seem to be poisoned.’

Rey frowned and slapped her knee lightly. ‘I knew I forgot something.’

Ben tries to keep his expression as level as possible, though the effort seems to only serve as entertainment for Rey and her mouth breaks into a wide smile that she swiftly hides behind her cup.

‘Is that a common expression you wear, Ben? It’s quite funny.’

‘You think my face is funny?’

She glances at him sideways, seeing the small smirk on his lips and she narrows her eyes. ‘You are more than aware of what your face looks like.’

Ben almost asks her to clarify her meaning, hoping that his earnest interest in whether she finds him attractive comes off as simply a means of flirting, though he is interrupted by the scraping of metal against wood from the other side of the door. Rey seems nonplussed and merely grins when a dark haired east Asian woman enters, her arms weighed down by canvas bags. She slides in backwards, closing the door as she walks, and almost jumps when she turns to the two of them, seeing the stranger on the sofa.

‘Oh, hello.’ Rose says warily, an eyebrow raised as she looks to Rey.

‘Hi, Lovely,’ Rey replies, getting up quickly, Art wanting to follow after her. Rey puts her cup of tea down on the coffee table and then moves to Rose to take the bags from her. ‘This is Ben and that beautiful boy is Art. Ben, this is Rose.’

Ben’s mouth twitches, almost responding with disappointment at the fact that he hasn’t been gifted with an adjective too.

‘Hi Ben,’ Rose says with a brief wave.

‘Hi,’ he responds.

Rey continues emptying the bags of food, Ben watching her, unsure of what to do. She glances up at him with a smile. ‘Would you like to join us for tea?’ she asks. ‘Since I dragged you in here from the cold.’

‘It was mostly my fault anyway, I shouldn’t intrude.’

‘He doesn’t want to interrupt our romantic candlelit dinner, Rey.’ Rose says with a sigh, meeting Rey’s eye in what Ben can only construe as a conspiratorial look.

Rey pokes Rose and the two of them laugh easily together. Ben doesn’t miss the arm Rose wraps around Rey’s waist and he automatically feels the dejection come as easily, as thoughts of his failed high school conquests. Maybe he’ll be sick for real this time, he thinks. Yet the desire to stay here and intrude continues to ruminate in his head, even as he sees how close they stand, clearly more than just roommates. But he knows what he is, and he knows that he can’t put himself into someone else’s life of his own accord. An out of place blemish in someone else’s idyll.

Art seems to like Rose too, and he noses at her knee before receiving a rigorous rub down from the young woman.

‘It seems that I’m the least popular choice to Art,’ he murmurs as he stands.

‘You’re not going to stay?’ Rey asks quickly, moving from behind the kitchen island and toward Ben in two steps. ‘I made pie, it just needs reheating.’

Ben smiles lightly and shakes his head. ‘I should go. I think the fireworks have stopped now.’

‘Oh, okay,’ she responds, giving him a wry smile. ‘It was nice to meet you,’ she says and as Ben moves to the door, she reaches out, touching him lightly on the arm. ‘If you ever need a vet, I work at the Denmark Hill Animal Clinic,’ she adds with another smile. This one seems weaker than the last and Ben ponders it for a moment more, and he doesn’t want to look away. He wants so badly to commit the loveliest woman he’s ever met to memory.

He nods, his mouth set in a pathetic excuse for a smile and he nods his head at Rose and then looks back at Rey. ‘It was nice to meet you too.’

Ben is out on the street with Art soon after, people filing along the pavement from the park and Art tying Ben up in his lead. He is still wrapped in Rey’s scarf and despite Ben knowing it would have been the right thing to do to just knock again and give it back to her, he can’t bring himself to do it. He feels sheer jealousy and frustration boil in his stomach and Art seems to slow, noticing the change in his temperament.

Of course, the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen would have a girlfriend...who she lives with...and who she easily laughs and jokes with. She told jokes...she could joke. Ben closes his eyes, irritated with even the sound of his own voice in his head.

‘You’re an idiot,’ he mumbles to himself, rolling the lead around one hand and beginning the walk down past the station and up the hill towards his flat. ‘An awkward idiot.’

 

**XxX**

 

He meets Rey again, because of course Ben Solo would live four years in the same place and meet the most beautiful woman that he has no chance with more than once in a single week.

She’s waiting for the bus when he’s taking Art on his morning walk two days later and she says ‘hi’ so charismatically that Ben has to take a step back. Why she’s so bright at 8AM he can’t understand and yet his gloomy thoughts almost evaporate at her smile and the way she leans forward, rolling onto the tips of her toes with her hands tucked away in her coat.

‘I see Art is doing well after his ordeal,’ she comments, her smile wide as she looks at Ben. He realises he is grimacing still and he resolves himself to fix that, neutralising his expression so that he looks at the very least, blank.

He nods. Art is already pulling to be closer to Rey, to have her rub his belly.

Rey smiles, kneeling down and letting Art lick her nose, despite the cold.

‘I should have given you back your scarf,’ Ben says, trying to fill the silence, though Rey seems to not have noticed it like he has. She seems to have been stewing happily in it.

‘If you give it back you’ll have no reason to visit again,’ she supplies easily. Her eyes glance to a car passing by and then she looks back at Ben, scanning his face. ‘You look different in the daylight.’

Ben’s brow furrows and he’s jerked forward by Art, who is distracted by another dog passing by. ‘Paler?’ he suggests.

And she looks different in the daylight too, he thinks. The rouge in her cheeks from the cold is a defined colour in his mind now. Pomegranates. Her eyes are like ripening pears, just before they turn, when they are most sweet, the way his mother likes them when she poaches them. And her lips, they are...they are…

He realises he has missed her words, because she’s laughing easily, a hand shaking his shoulder. ‘Are you sure you’re not pale because you’re sick? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re looking rather peaky. You’re not anaemic, are you?’ she asks.

‘Not since I was eighteen,’ Ben finds himself replying, immediately berating himself for exposing an embarrassing fact about himself like he was ready to open up a vein in his arm just to show her the colour of his blood.

Rey’s head tilts as she looks at him and she chuckles again. ‘I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.’

Ben finds himself telling his brain to not say anymore on the subject and instead he resettles on his feet and swallows. ‘Are you going to work?’ he asks.

‘Yep. Bus all the way.’

She rocks from foot to foot, her hands still in her pockets.

There is a brief silence that descends over them, mostly because this time, Ben wants to remember everything about her face.

‘You never told me what you do,’ she says, and Ben can see the bus turning from the main road, only having to pass through the green light to get to the stop they are standing at.

‘I’m an engineer,’ he responds simply, holding Art still.

Rey gives him another suspicious look. ‘You don’t work on Fridays?’

‘Day off,’ he responds quickly, seeing the bus pull-up. Rey turns to it and hesitates, looking back at Ben and he watches her, wondering what she’s doing, why she hasn’t already turned to leave.

Art decides to pull on the lead again and Ben decides to speak up, meeting Rey’s apprehensive eyes again. ‘It was nice seeing you.’

Then she’s half on the bus, half still on the street’s edge, frowning lightly as she looks at Ben. ‘Yeah,’ she murmurs and then she’s gone.

Ben finds himself swallowing again, his eyes watching the bus move off and begin its ascent up the hill, past his house and on to Denmark Hill. It’s only when Art starts to whine again that Ben begins walking, his legs automatically bringing him to the crossing, then the next and then to the entrance of the park.

 

**XxX**

 

Ben bumps into Rose in the tiny aisle of the small express supermarket near the station a week later. He drops the packet of spaghetti he’s holding and almost knocks heads with the dark-haired woman as he kneels to pick it up.

She laughs, most likely because their differences in heights are extraordinary and Ben hadn’t realised when he was sitting in her flat.

‘You know I was wondering when I’d see you again,’ she says softly. Ben sees she has a basket full of items; sugar, flour, pasta, tomatoes, mince, cheese, wine.

He nods, smiling lightly. Rose seems to be giving him a thorough look over and then there’s a finger scratching her chin. ‘Do you mind if I ask you something?’

‘Me?’ he answers automatically, surprised by her words and wondering what she could possibly have to say.

Rose nods again and then she lets out another glittering laugh, and he imagines she’s an easy person to like. ‘Don’t look so frightened, Ben. I simply wanted to ask if you are free for the next…’ she looks down at her watch. ‘The next 2 hours.’

‘I’m going to walk my dog and eat.’

‘Perfect. If you wouldn’t mind, would you like to join us for dinner? Art is more than welcome.’

He pauses, trying to analyse her words, trying to read something in her face and he finds very little. ‘I don’t think—’

‘—it’s a great idea. A Friday night indoors should be spent with friends.’

And he can’t help giving her a look of incredulity, because they aren’t friends. He’s spent less than 5 minutes in her company before now and he almost laughs, because she’s just like his neighbours, always trying to get him up doing something. He supposes he can’t judge her for that.

‘I promise that we don’t plan on killing you and roasting you on a spit,’ Rose adds with a wide smile. She holds the basket up and shakes it lightly. ‘Lasagne and wine.’

‘I’m not sure I’m worthwhile company, Art maybe, perhaps not me.’

Rose raises an eyebrow. ‘I think we’d like to make that decision ourselves.’

‘Now you sound like you want me to join your cult,’ he responds. His voice is a murmur, but Rose laughs, hearing him clearly.

‘Just come over when you’re ready.’ She gives him one last nod and then moves off into another aisle, picking up things as she goes. Ben notes that she hums happily, and his jealousy slinks its way into his chest, wishing that he were so carefree, that he wasn’t the way he is.

And he goes, and he doesn’t quite know why.

He slips a can of dog food and Art’s bowl into one of those hemp bags that Alice two doors down had given him along with a variety of preserved fruits, and he hesitates before taking up the solitary bottle of red wine he has; a gift from last Christmas, from who, he can’t remember.

Art yips in confusion as Ben leads him out before his dinner, though steadily forgets that as they make their way down the hill at a speedy pace, Ben not quite sure why he is being quick, not when he’s merely holding off the inevitable disappointment that his presence will provide. He doesn’t even know how to curb the awkward way he feels when he sees Rey and he knows that it hasn’t dissipated since she left on that bus the week before.

Then his hand is being pulled by Art turning and Ben stops in confusion until he feels a poke on his shoulder and Rey’s standing there, swathed in her coat and another extraordinarily large scarf is wrapped around her like a pretty bow.

She glances at him, a bright smile on her lips and then she’s bending down to Art, who seems a bit skittish, perhaps smelling other animals on her, but he’s welcoming her rubs and scratches with soft keens.

‘Hi Art,’ she says happily and then her eyes meet Ben’s again and she stands, a beaming grin on her lips. ‘Hi.’ And Ben notes that she’s almost breathless and there’s some sweat beading on her brow. ‘You walk really fast.’

Ben can’t speak for a moment. Not because he’s nervous, he just can’t think of a reply that would be satisfactory and it’s like a never-ending cycle of thinking, with the air full of unspoken words.

‘That’s not your bus stop,’ he ends up saying, his head gesturing to the bus stop further up the hill, just before his flat.

Her already red cheeks seem to deepen in colour and she pauses before speaking. ‘I saw Art and got off early, but you walked so fast that I had to jog.’

He nods, and his hand tightens on the canvas bag.

‘Are you going to the park?’ she asks.

‘Uh, no.’ His confusion is clear, and Rey seems to frown lightly, her fingers beginning to pull at the end of her scarf. She looks ready to say something, but dissuades herself, and Ben finds himself automatically speaking again. ‘To yours?’

Her eyes snap to him. ‘Mine?’

The volume that her voice takes makes Art pause and look up at the two of them and Ben nods warily, thinking that perhaps it was a mistake that he left his house at all.

‘Rose said...if you don’t want me there—.’

Rey’s hands begin to wave, and she shakes her head, her smile breaking across her face again. ‘No, no, of course you’re welcome to come...Rose just didn’t tell me.’

Ben wants to ask why, but Rey turns him with a hand and then they are walking down the rest of the hill together, Art wanting to break free already.

‘So, Rose invited you to dinner and you said yes?’ Rey asks and when Ben takes a side glance at her, she is smirking.

‘Why do you say it like that?’ he asks.

Rey shrugs and grins, her hands still tucked tightly into her pockets. ‘You should just be prepared, that’s all.’

Ben is wary but isn’t able to think on it much as Art starts pulling at the lead to chase down a passing squirrel. He rolls his eyes and Rey bends, putting a hand on Art’s back and her touch seems to settle him because he stops and looks to her with a questioning glance.

‘Are you a dog whisperer?’ Ben asks, and he closes his eyes, wondering why he asked that at all.

Rey is laughing though, and he has to open his eyes again to see. Her eyes are bright, and she holds her hands out to Ben and he doesn’t know what meaning to take from that, until her hands move toward his and she eases the leash from his grip and wraps it around her wrist once before holding it tightly.

‘Careful he’s a puller.’

She grins and shakes her head. ‘You’d never pull me along, would you, Art?’

And he doesn’t. In fact, Art seems excited that Rey’s holding his lead and decides to trot beside her, stopping when they reach the traffic lights and following her once the green man is glowing.

‘How are you doing that?’ Ben asks, his frown clear as he looks at his traitorous dog.

Rey smiles and shrugs. ‘I call it my sole talent.’

‘I’m sure you are talented at everything you do.’ Ben replies automatically, without having to even think about his words. He regrets it, however, when Rey looks at him with a wary look in her eye.

She holds his gaze for a moment and then continues, shuffling in her pockets for her keys as they approach her door.

Ben realises that Rose isn’t alone in the flat when he hears the echoes of conversation bounce against the walls of the stairway and Rey seems to chuckle as she reaches the top.

The door is pulled open before Rey can use her key and the smell of cooking wafts into the space as a young man pokes his head through the door.

‘Rey!’ His eyes meet Ben, ‘and a man with a dog!’ He looks behind him, his body mostly out of the flat and his hand still on the door handle. Ben is surprised to hear that he is American too and he tries not to furrow his brow. ‘Rose, you didn’t tell us you had an extra visitor.’

Rey turns to him, one hand on the bannister and another holding Art’s lead. ‘It seems that Rose also did not mention that she seems to be hosting a dinner party.’

‘Maybe I should go,’ Ben mumbles, but he seals his mouth shut when Rey looks sadly at him, her brow furrowing and her mouth twitching. There’s a huge part of him that’s telling him to go back down the stairs and just let Art run around in the park, yet he wants to be in her presence for just a bit longer and so he doesn’t do it. He just meets her eye until her expression softens and she smiles again.

‘Hurry up and come in, you’re letting the cold in.’ Rose shouts from the kitchen and the man at the door opens it wider, letting Rey, Art and Ben walk through.

Ben looks around the small space, his eyes landing on Rose–who has an apron on and is opening the oven door–and to a man and a woman sitting at the kitchen island on two stools, wine glasses in their hands.

Rose closes the oven again and turns, clapping her mitted hands together. ‘Ben, you came!’

He smiles wryly, and she removes the oven mitts and hurries around towards Rey and Ben, reaching for the bag in his hands and taking it from him with very little resistance. She peruses over the bottle of wine and laughs seeing the dog food and bowl.

‘Don’t worry Art, you’ll get something much better than this,’ she says to the dog.

‘Were you not going to tell me?’ Rey says, gesturing to the guests around the room and pausing for a little longer on Ben.

Rose shrugs. ‘Surprise?’

Ben realises then that the eyes of the three strangers in the room are on him and Rey seems to sense his apprehension, because she pats his shoulder lightly and then begins to introduce him.

‘Ben, sorry that Rose has rudely thrust you into the company of our friends, but this is Poe.’ The man who had opened the door waves from his position on the couch, a beer in his lap. ‘Kaydel and Finn.’ The two on the kitchen island smile and give brief ‘hellos.’

Ben clears his throat and nods, ‘nice to meet you,’ and he gestures to Art, who is sitting by his feet, obedient to Rey. ‘This is Art.’

Kaydel seems to grin at that and she slides from her seat, puts her glass down and approaches them. ‘Hi Art,’ she says as she holds a hand out for him to sniff. Art seems to accept her attentions as he stands, moving toward Kaydel with interest.

Rey laughs lightly and unclips his leash, winding it in her hands and placing it in the bag that Rose still holds in her hands.

‘Stealing other people's dogs again, Rey?’ Finn says, finishing his wine and allowing Rose to fill it again with a smile. She then moves to grab two glasses for Rey and Ben.

‘Is she a serial offender?’ Ben asks, a brief smirk on his lips.

Finn grins. ‘Poe’s dog howls when she leaves his flat.’

‘Babette isn’t that bad,’ Rey frowns and Poe scoffs from across the room.

‘She smelled out that scarf you left a few weeks ago and tore it to shreds, Rey.’

Rey’s frown deepens. ‘I liked that scarf.’

Most of the room chuckles, though Ben is left in silence, watching Rey as she moves to remove her scarf and coat. Once she’s hung it up on the stand behind the door, she reaches her hand out to Ben, expecting him to shed himself of his coat too.

‘So, Ben, how did you meet our friend Rey?’ Poe asks from the sofa, a small smile on his lips.

‘Art ran her over,’ Ben replies easily, a natural smile coming to his face.

Poe nods, an amused expression lighting his eyes up. ‘And you somehow ended up in the apartment of two beautiful women?’

Rey turns to him with a frown, securing Ben’s coat on the stand. ‘You make it sound very strange, Poe. You were told exactly what happened, so you don’t need to ask again.’

‘You spoke about me?’ Ben asks, genuinely surprised, his mouth feeling rather dry for a moment. He thinks that perhaps they had a conversation about the gangly and awkward man with the big dog who almost killed her.

Rose replies first before Rey; whose mouth is opening and closing, not knowing what to say. ‘Sorry that’s my fault.’ She moves forward, holding two glasses of wine for the two of them and Ben takes the glass warily. ‘I told Finn and he can’t help himself.’

‘You told me that Rey had a cr—.’

The words are lost to Finn as Rose elbows him in the stomach with a wild smile.

Rey’s mouth is set in a straight line, her eyes glaring intensely at all of her friends. Ben sees Kaydel smirking from her position on the floor, Art lying his head in her lap.

‘This seems like a rather dangerous place for Ben,’ Kaydel comments easily, and then she starts cooing at Art.

Ben tries to look at Rey for some answer, thinking that as she is the person he is most familiar with, she can offer an explanation, but she just looks at him as if she is guilty of some crime. Before he can ask another question, the oven begins beeping and Rose cheers as she moves to open it.

In a short time, Ben’s glass is topped up and he is sitting around the small round dining table, his legs awkwardly folded underneath as Poe sits on one side and Finn on the other. Rey is sat dead across from him and he thinks that perhaps that’s worse than her just sitting to his side. Now he can’t help looking at her whether he is eating or not.

‘I present to you all my speciality lasagne.’ Rose announces, lifting the large tray over their heads and putting it in the centre of the table on top of a cork pad.

They all applaud, mostly to feed her ego and Rose removes her apron and oven mitts before she sits in between Finn and Rey.

Rey is ready to stretch across the table for a bread roll, but Rose halts her with a hand.

‘Before we eat, I’d like to thank you all for your unbridled friendship, and especially you Ben, for being willing to come to my impromptu dinner, even though you must already think that we are a questionable bunch.’

Ben smiles slightly, shaking his head and meaning it. His eyes glance over to Finn beside him, who is leaning against his propped arm and smiling happily up at Rose. The expression seems rather intense to Ben and he looks to Rey quickly, who is looking at him already. She smiles, and he can’t help his own smile widening too.

‘It’s been a long five years since we let Poe into our lives and so every day continues to be a struggle—.’

‘—Hey!’ Poe interrupts and they all break into chuckles.

Rose shakes her head again and smiles widely, lifting her glass up to prompt everyone to do the same. ‘I just wanted to celebrate friendship and togetherness and that I hope that even if things change, that you’ll all still be in my life, okay?’

They let out cheers and Ben can’t help doing so too, appreciating the sentimentality of Rose’s words. Though he can’t help thinking of his mother and he feels a surge of guilt at the idea of his mother spending another Thanksgiving alone this year. All because her son is so selfish.

After the group settle and Ben seems to latch onto his plans for Christmas with his mother at the very least, he sees Rose sit down, her gaze meeting Finn’s beside her. Their fingers fold together on the table and Rose laughs at something he whispers to her.

And then they kiss. Well their lips meet in a chaste peck, but it’s there and Ben drops the fork he has just picked up into his plate and they all look at him. He manages to recover with a quick chuckle, but his eyes move to Rey, who is still looking at him, her head tilted to the side somewhat.

Somehow Ben is able to manage himself through the meal. The lasagne is delicious, and he is not surprised that Rose was filled with such pride. Though he can’t really bring himself to look over at that part of the table, because he is ultimately confused. And Rey seems nonplussed that her girlfriend has kissed this man so casually.

He keeps some conversation with Poe and Kaydel when they ask him about his work, about where he’s from, how he ended up in London, and strangely, whether he has a girlfriend. Poe lets out a huge grin realising that their parents are from the same part of So Cal and considers whether they know each other.

Rey doesn’t talk much, and she seems comfortable to just listen to the others, her eyes bright and her smile ever present.

Rose gets up to refill the glasses again and Ben nibbles on his salad, listening to the group debate over the quality of the contestants on this years’ Strictly Come Dancing. Ben can’t contribute considering he has never watched the show and Rey seems preoccupied with eating as much of the lasagne as humanly possible, sending Ben innocent looks as she takes slice after slice. He finds himself biting his lip to stop his laugh interrupting the voices as he watches her, and it’s nice to just watch her eat. It seems like Rey’s favourite thing to do, and he doesn’t have to ask to confirm it, he can tell by how her eyes close tightly over every bite. How her shoulders wiggle as she swallows and the suspicion she has when someone else on the table reaches out to grab their wine glass or a bread roll, thinking they will usurp more of the lasagne.

Art starts to whine then, and the attention is all brought to the dog, who looks briefly embarrassed at the attention before he stands and looks squarely at Ben. His dish, that was previously full of ‘dog’s lasagne’, as Rose called it, is now empty and gleaming, licked clean.

Kaydel laughs loudly and looks back to Ben from Art. ‘He’s got you wrapped around his finger.’

Ben frowns lightly, realising that she is right, and he stands. ‘I should probably run him around.’

‘Rey go with him,’ Rose says as soon as the words leave Ben’s mouth.

They all look at Rose and she’s smiling widely. No one says anything, and Rey gets up, wiping her mouth, a slice of lasagne still in her plate. She moves from her chair and tucks it back, before looking to Ben.

‘You don’t have to,’ Ben says like he’s programmed to and he gently slides out of his chair.

Rey smiles and shakes her head. ‘I’d like to play with Art for a little.’

Ben nods and follows after her, getting up and moving towards the door for their coats, Art trotting faithfully behind Rey.

It’s Rey who clips his leash back on after she has her coat and scarf on and Rey leads them out of the door, holding tightly onto Art’s leash.

‘You like him?’ Ben asks once they are crossing the road to the park.

Rey seems to jump and then her face relaxes, and she nods. ‘He has kind eyes.’

Ben hums, considering her words. ‘You think?’

She nods and breathes out, the air freezing into clouds around her.

They walk in silence for a few moments more as they enter the park, near empty at this time of night.

‘I’m sorry that Rose invited you without any warning...she can be like that sometimes.’ Rey says, breaking the silence. Her voice is small, and she kicks up dirt as she walks. ‘I know you were probably uncomfortable.’

Ben smiles. He thought he would be, but he hadn’t been. ‘It was good.’ She turns to him, waiting to hear him continue. ‘I don’t usually do this. Dinner parties, or visiting friends, so it was a good change.’

Rey’s smile mimics his and her walk gets a little more confident, Art taking it in his stride to hurry along too. ‘You don’t think we’re all strange, do you?’

He blinks at her, wondering why she is smiling so widely when it is just the two of them, or three if Art counts. ‘Why would it matter if I did?’

‘It…’ she looks away and then she laughs, aloud, like she is trying to purposefully project. ‘It matters.’

Ben removes a hand from his pocket, and scratches at the growing stubble on his chin. ‘If your friends are weird, I’m not sure what that makes me.’

‘Perfect…perfectly normal.’ The correction is awkward, and Ben takes a moment to rewind it in his mind, to go back and consider her tone, her body language, trying to see through the context surrounding her words. ‘Did you like the lasagne?’ she asks quickly.

He nods, deciding to push it away for now if Rey does not want to focus on it. ‘Probably the best I’ve ever had.’

Rey grins. ‘I tell Rose all the time that she has a talent, but she’s so hard to convince.’ Art gives her a tug, which she is surprised about, and she laughs, realising he wants to be let off the lead. Ben removes the leash and Art is already racing off, seeming to have found something interesting in the trees that circle the park fence.

‘Have you been with Rose for long?’ Ben asks, his voice low.

She turns to him, the leash still wrapped around her wrist, but both hands in her pockets. ‘Since uni? We’ve shared a flat since First Year, the rest is history.’

Ben nods, not knowing how to phrase the next question. He knows it’s intrusive, yet he can’t not ask. ‘And the Finn thing?’

Rey tilts her head and is distracted by Art running back, a stick in his mouth. Ben picks it up and tosses it as far as possible, Art happily chasing after it.

‘It’s better than being with me for all our free time,’ Rey says, a smirk on her lips.

Ben stares. He knows he does, because Art comes back and is knocking the stick against his ankle for a good while before he can say anything. The need to ask semi-ambiguous questions is gone and he throws the stick, staring Rey down with an expression of worry. ‘You shouldn’t put yourself through that.’

Rey looks at the ground and then back at Ben, an eyebrow raised and then her face relaxes and her lip twitches as she watches his unchanging expression. Then she is laughing, full bodied laughs that have her bent in half and Art is barking from his place in the trees, wondering what the laughter is about. ‘Poe was right,’ she mumbles and now it’s Ben’s turn to look at her with sheer incredulity.

‘Right about what?’

‘Do you think that Rose is my girlfriend, Ben?’ she asks breezily.

Ben is ready to nod but realises that she’s laughing because it’s not true. She’s laughing because he’s misunderstood something key and he wants to simmer in annoyance, yet this is the best news he’s had in a long time.

‘Not anymore.’ He answers.

Rey is beaming up at him and her expression is infectious. Ben is smiling without any thought and he looks to the grass at his feet, lightly kicking it. His face is stretched so widely it hurts. He hasn’t smiled like this in a long time.

‘It’s weird,’ Rey starts, and Ben looks back at her. Her expression has relaxed somewhat, but a smile still quirks the corners of her mouth. ‘When I look at you I feel like we’ve been friends for a long time.’

Ben snorts lightly. ‘I’d be a terrible friend.’

‘Why do you say that?’ she asks, truly interested in his answer.

‘I just would be,’ he says, deciding not to delve any further.

Rey frowns and he looks back at her, smirking at her expression. ‘I don’t know nearly enough about you...I don’t even know your last name.’

‘Solo.’ He responds easily.

‘Age?’

‘29.’

Rey starts to laugh. ‘Favourite colour?’

‘Blue.’

‘Favourite place?’

‘Right over there.’ He points through the park gates to the closed doors of the Greggs bakery.

Her laughter grows, and she shakes her head. ‘You’re lying, your favourite place is not a Greggs in South London.’

‘You don’t understand how much I like sausage rolls.’

She grins, shaking her head again.

‘Don’t stop laughing.’

Rey raises an eyebrow, stopping her laughter abruptly.

‘It’s become my favourite thing to see.’

She quiets, and she swallows. ‘Do you mean that?’

He smiles wryly, his hands slipping into his pockets. ‘I’m known for my brutal honesty.’

Rey steps closer to him, her arms crossed. ‘What do you think of me? Be honest.’

‘What do you think of me?’ he counters.

Her mouth screws into a pout, disappointed that she doesn’t get an immediate answer, and her hands drop back down to her sides.

‘I like how Art looks at you.’

‘Art?’ Ben looks over at his dog, who has begun burying his stick.

She nods. ‘I think the best way to know a person is through their pets.’ Art wanders over, his tongue hanging out of his mouth and his tail wagging. Rey kneels down and scratches his neck. ‘It might sound strange, but he looks over you like a guardian, and with such depth, that I know he loves you. And I know that if he loves you so deeply, then you deserve it. It doesn’t matter how you might perceive yourself, Art knows who you are without any prejudice.’

Rey’s holding Art’s gaze and Ben can do nothing but watch her scratch his dogs neck.

‘I wish I was more like you,’ he says.

She smiles and looks up at him from her crouched position beside Art. ‘Then you wouldn’t be you,’ she answers.

Rey stands and reaches into Ben’s pocket, knowing that Art’s ball is tucked inside, as if it’s been that way forever and she’s always known so. She throws the ball and Ben watches it go, before it bounces on the ground, Art running after it.

When he looks back at her she’s in his sphere, and he steps back, but her lips press softly against his, a warm hand against his cheek and another holding tightly onto the lapel of his coat.

She drops down from her tiptoes, breaking apart from him and Ben already feels cold and without. He’s looking at her like his brain has switched off and she reaches toward his right hand with both of hers, fingers wrapping around him tightly.

Ben’s eyes study her smile, not knowing where to remain as they glance over her features, and she’s smiling widely, watching him do so.

He doesn’t know what to say and she’s looking at him expectantly like he should. But all he knows is that he wants to feel her pressed softly against him and so he leans towards her, dropping down to reach her height and meet her lips again.


End file.
